Wallow in the Mire
by Philtrum
Summary: Raised in seclusion for 8 years, Harry is shoved into the wizarding world with only the Dark Lord to cushion his fall. Can he learn to stand on his own in the world whilst facing a treacherous face from his past, an army of children, and whisperings of the seven deadly sins?
1. Prologue: Knowing Loss

**Title**: Wallow in the Mire

**Author**: Philtrum

**Rating**: T (PG-13)

**Warnings**: Slash, strong language, and adult situations to come.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything. Honestly, not a darn thing.

It was the only name Harry had ever heard or known beside his own. Sometimes in the night he would find himself whispering it, a familiar word that was so very foreign. He dreamt about the man who was not his guardian. They would sit in the gardens of his guardian's manor and dangle their fingers over the snapping mouths of the plants, and the man would hold Harry's hand like he always did.

The man often spoke of others, but Harry refused to believe him. He said that he had a son, a boy that was his child. This had confused Harry, but he left the man to his delusions. Parents, the man had said one afternoon as they sat on the floor in the lounge, are like guardians but they gave birth to their children. Children, he learned are young people like him that came out of old people like the man, except for not like the man at all. Women are man's counterpart, he also learned. Harry learned much from the man.

He learned to read. The man would bring books with him and explain the syllables and the letters and this offered a whole new world to Harry. He learned what singing was; the lullabies used to teach him still hummed through his mind every now and then when he thought his guardian was unable to see him swaying to the soft notes.

But most of all, Harry learned of magic. Wonderful things that came out of a very small stick held in the man's hand. Things that could heal and could spark and could dance in the air in colors. The man and his stick—for he was never without his stick—could do a great many things that Harry couldn't, but the man promised that one day he would know how. He would be taught by the others; the people who lived outside his guardian's manor. Harry simply could not believe this, but he trusted the man and his word more than anything.

He was seven when the man stopped coming. There was no reason to his visits, he would just appear one day, falling through the fire to him, and the man would scare off his guardian for a few short hours. The man would leave when the outside got dark and Harry had grown accustom to that. He knew better than to expect the man when it was dark. He had waited and waited and it seemed dark for so many days.

Weeks had passed before Harry garnered the courage to ask his guardian about the man. His question was ignored the first time, and the second time, and every consecutive time after that. On the day his guardian told him he was eight, Harry had resigned to never seeing the man again, though he dared to hope, another thing he had learned from the man.

It was dark beyond the windows of his bedroom, and with the darkness came a longing so very deep in his heart. Today his guardian had told him he was 10 years old. Harry had grown cold over the past years. His mind began to wander from life within the manor to life beyond it. He wondered if he left, if he could find the man, if maybe the man would love him again like he had so long ago. He wondered if the man would hold his hand one more time.

As the chill night air wrapped around him, he sunk lower into the sheets of his bed and wished himself to a land where the man would find him and teach him. Curling his arms about his pillow, he turned his nose into the warmth beneath his head and hissed the name that his guardian so often denied him the right of saying aloud.

"Lucius, _please_."


	2. Chapter 1: Being Found

**Title**: Wallow in the Mire

**Author**: Philtrum

**Rating**: T (PG-13)

**Warnings**: Slash, strong language, violence, and adult situations to come.

**Disclaimer**: Oh, how I would love to own Harry Potter. What I wouldn't give! But unfortunately, I have nothing. *sadface*

Sequestered in an illustrious manor in South Wiltshire, England, a select group of Death Eaters had gathered at the beck and call of their Lord and Master for a mission they had yet to be briefed of. Antonin Dolohov was the last of those summoned to arrive, trodding behind Macnair as they entered the Ball Room where the Death Eaters were quickly falling into line. It had been months since their last mission and he could see the excitement of those more invested in the darker side of their Lord's organization. Bellatrix LeStrange, for one, swayed giddily in place, a smirk of yellow teeth and parched lips playing across her face.

Antonin came to stand beside the others, shoulder to shoulder with Rodolphus and Mulciber. He turned his eyes to the front of the room, where upon a raised platform sat a throne worthy of a king and hardly worthy of their Lord. It remained empty for the time being. Twisting his shoulders, he turned to get an idea of who was present, thinking that perhaps it would give him an idea of the severity of the situation. Once he had, he almost wished he hadn't.

Nearly half of the Inner Circle was present, and he was unable to find a face among them that he did not consider a serious threat. All three of the LeStranges, Nott, Mulciber, Jugson, Gibbon, the Carrows, and Rowle. The Dark Lord had called in his most faithful and his most volatile for this mission. He felt his heart clench with anticipation and returned his eyes to the front where they waited paitently for sight of his Lord.

The Death Eaters were not kept waiting much longer. Only minutes later the doors nearest to the front of the hall were thrown open and the Dark Lord stepped in, out of the neighboring corridor, with Lucius Malfoy in tow. The latter separated from the Dark Lord and came to stand beside his fellow Death Eaters in the line that had formed across the middle of the hall. The Dark Lord took his place upon the platform, standing before his throne, which his pet snake Nagini took full advantage of. She slithered from his shoulders and came to a tight coil in the seat of the chair.

"My friends," the Dark Lord began, baring his teeth at them, "the time has come. The Order has found the child and they plan to retrieve him tonight. We aim to intercept them. I should not need to remind you, but it is pertinent that the boy does not fall into the hands of our enemies. I am trusting you to retrieve him and see that no harm comes to him. Am I understood?"

As one, in a fluid motion that took them from their feet to their knees, the Death Eaters fell before their Lord and murmured a collective acceptance of the terms. The Dark Lord motioned for them to rise and continued.

"Lucius has portkeys that will take you to the safehouse. The child's gaurdian will hand the boy over to you and with any luck you will escape before the Order deigns to show their faces. Should it come to a battle, the boy's safety takes precedence over all. Kill them if necessary, but I want the child back to me in one piece. You will leave immediately, and be aware: failure is not an option," he added grimly.

"Yes, my Lord," the Death Eaters murmured in reply.

Lucius was quick about handing out their portkeys. Each were small, blank gold coins that would drop them just yards from the safehouse. After a moment of strategizing, discussing who would take what position on the mission, they stepped back into a line once more and activated their portkeys.

Malfoy was the first to break away from the group once they'd landed, Dolohov following close behind as they led the others up to the house. From the exterior, the manor did not appear to be anything special. Certain parts of the structure looked to be crumbling and the grounds surrounding the manor itself were dilapidated after many years of inattention. To any passerby it might have appeared abandoned if not for the power emanating off the intricate warding that protected the house.

Antonin felt the hair on his arms and the nape of his neck raise as he stepped past the boundry of the wards. The Dark Lord had devised them himself and the sheer intensity of the power behind them was warning enough to those who might attempt to bypass them. Still, the fact remained that Albus Dumbledore and his infernal Order comprised a group of highly trained wizards with enough power to tear down the wards if given enough time and that was not a risk the Dark Lord was willing to take.

Antonin could understand that. There were few amongst the ranks that could be trusted to protect the boy and most were too deeply involved in their own missions to be considered for the job. Placing someone here to keep watch was no longer an option with the war stirring to new extremes. Instead he assumed they planned to place him at Malfoy Manor where not even the Ministry or Dumbledore himself could step foot.

As they reached the front doors of the manor, Lucius pulled to a stop at the end of the pathway, planting his foot on one of the five steps before them. He pivoted and nodded to the Carrow siblings, who returned the gesture and extracted themselves from the group. They took up position on either side of the veranda, immediately scanning the horizon for potential threats as the others grouped up in front of Malfoy.

"If you hear anything," Lucius added, letting the order finish itself.

The Carrows nodded in unison as Antonin and Lucius led the goup ever forward. The doors to the manor were unlocked and they soon found themselves a dust-encrusted Entry Hall, cracked marble tiles scraping beneath their feet as they piled in.

"Antonin, Bella, with me. The rest of you stay here and wait for a signal from the others."

Antonin and Bella both stepped forward, hurrying their steps to match the near-frantic pace of the other wizard. The whispered exchanges of their companions faded into the distance as they continued up the stairs and ascended to the higher floors of the manor.

Lucius slowed his long, graceful strides for the briefest of moments to inform them of the layout of the house. Four floors, he informed them, with three habitable bedrooms. He told them the doors would be locked save for those in use, which made their task slightly easier. The three of them came to a full stop as they reached a crossing of ways on the second floor. Lucius split off from the two of them, heading off in search of the boy's guardian, and instructed them to the third floor where they would find the boy's bedroom.

Lucius was correct, of course. As Bella strolled merrily behind him, Antonin dragged his hand from one rusted doorknob to the next until finally one gave way. With a quick '_Lumos_', he illuminated the room within, which looked as though it hadn't seen much use in decades aside from the books sprawled out across the floor. With a sigh, Antonin turned to leave after having inspected the corners of the room quite thoroughly, but as he did a scream shot down the external corridor and brought his heart up to his throat. It was the scream of a chid.

"Bella," he cursed, pace quickening as the blood-curdling screams quieted in an instant.

When he finally happened upon the room Bella had found, he discovered the woman cradling an unconscious child about the age of nine or ten. He grimaced at her, his eyes tracking the way she so delicately caressed his hair, and surged forward to remove her of her fragile package.

After prying the boy from her arms, much to her displeasure, he motioned her out of the room. "We have to hurry. Half of Scotland must have heard that," he said.

He carried the boy down the stairs as quickly as he could manage and they found Lucius waiting for them in the Entry Hall, alone. Antonin cocked his head, perking an ear towards the sound of a brief explosion. With a start he realized that the Order had arrived.

"The wards?" he asked quickly.

Lucius shook his head. "They've not been foolish enough to tear them down. They have Aurors surrounding the manor. We won't be able to leave until they decide to come in."

Antonin shifted the boy, laying him across one shoulder and supporting him with both arms. Lucius took a moment to observe the child and Antonin in turn took a moment to observe Lucius. He seemed—affected, perhaps. The wizard's suspicious behavior was gone almost as quickly as it had come. He turned his back to Antonin, as well as Bella who had found her way down to them and was cooing over the boy from Antonin's left.

"It should not take them long. The others can fend for themselves. I do not wish to risk our Lord's precious cargo to one guard," he said.

Bella pouted, digging her nails into the flesh of Antonin's shoulder. "But I want to kill them!"

"Of course you do," Antonin snorted. "So, we wait?"

"It should be fine, so long as we're faster than them when the time comes."

Thusly, they waited. Night had fallen long before they arrived and as both the Light and the Dark exchanged what spell-fire they could through the wards, morning's first light began to break over the horizon. Lucius had stood strong amidst the endless waiting, but Bella had run off in search of a vantage point to assassinate the Aurors from. Antonin still held onto the boy in his arms, cradling the bundle of limbs and raven hair to his chest.

"The Dark Lord is getting anxious," Lucius mused aloud. He rubbed vainly at the mark emblazoned on his left arm, as Antonin subconsciously fidgeted with his own. "If this takes much longer he may choose to deal with this rashly."

As if spurned by his words, the doors leading out into the courtyard of the manor were flung open. Walden Macnair staggered in dripping from head to toe in sweat. He managed to force himself across the room before collapsing into a chair.

"The cracks are getting bigger, Lucius. They will be breaking through at any moment."

Lucius nodded. "Are the others prepared?"

"Yes."

"Good. Stay here, if you'd like. We'll need someone to guard the door," Antonin added for Macnair's sake.

Lucius silently agreed as he and Macnair both turned their gazes to the sleeping child in Antonin's arms.

Macnair huffed raggedly, wiping a sleeve across his forehead. "This child—" he let the word trail off with all the bile he could manage in his state before continuing, "Is he worth it?"

"The Dark Lord is very certain in his planning. This child and the others like him could very well win us the war."

Antonin hummed, tightening his arms. "He seems so weak," he said.

"He is for now—they all are—but one day they will be strong. Stronger than the whole of our Lord's forces combined."

Following Lucius' final statement, all three men settled into the almost serence silence that had befallen them. It took each of them a minute to realize that the silence had also permeated beyond the walls of the manor. Antonin, prepared as ever for what actions he needed to take to perserve the child's safety, tightened his fingers around the gold coin that would return them to safety. Perhaps they should have kept a better eye on the battle raging outside. There was no signal within the manor to alert them to the failure of the wards. Instead, the three men were spurned by a loud crack that reverberated through the walls of the old structure.

Antonin could barely get to his feet in time, let alone get his wand drawn. Fortunately, Lucius was at the ready. He threw up a '_Protego_' to protect Antonin from the stunner sent his way by the Auror that had apparated into the room. As one, five other Ministry officials rushed through the front door and a few that had apparated into the adjoining room saw fit to accompany them as well. Lucius screamed over the sound of Macnair and the Carrows, who had stayed to join the fight, shouting their incantations to defend the others. Antonin nodded, sending a last look at his companions before uttering the word that would take himself and the boy away from the battle.

Unfortunately, as the world began to spin and he felt the familiar tug behind his navel he also felt another hand gripping the coin over his. The manor faded to black and a moment later was replaced by another, more familiar sight. The Dark Lord standing over him, an indistinguishable emotion crawling in the depths of his blood red eyes. It took a moment for him to realize where he was and what was happening around him. Beyond his Lord he was able to discern one thing: the ten year old boy in his arms screaming as though his limbs had been cut off.

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**A/N**: And that's it for me tonight, folks. Hope you like the first chapter. I sure do. As always, thank you for all the wonderful support.


	3. Chapter 2: Losing Sight

**Title**: Wallow in the Mire

**Author**: Philtrum

**Rating**: T (PG-13)

**Warnings**: Slash, strong language, and adult situations to come.

**Disclaimer**: All Harry Potter stuff obviously belongs to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.

In a disused classroom in the dungeons of Hogwarts Castle, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore gathered the members of the Order of the Phoenix for their bi-weekly meeting. For Auror Adam Savage these meetings were absolute torment.

The aforementioned Auror sunk slowly into his place at the elongated oak slab that consumed the center of the room. Beside him, his partner and friend, Auror Proudfoot sat tall in the wing-backed chair with a certain impatient air about him. He tapped his fingers on the table, as well as his foot beneath it, and let out an aggravated sigh every so often. To Savage's right sat Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall in all her terribly frightening glory. Her hair, he noted, was pinned back in her usual fashion revealing a phoenix shaped ruby earring in her left ear. It glittered in the candle light cast about the room and glowed unnaturally as their leader entered through a doorway across the room.

Savage had never held a particular fondness for the current Headmaster of Hogwarts. In his time as a student there he had witnessed the progression of Dumbledore's career, both within the school and beyond it. In his time dedicated to the post, Hogwarts had become more politically driven than ever before. Entire courses were cut for not adhering to the suggestions set forth by the governing body of Great Britain. It was foolish to suggest that such a change was not on the horizon—what with Europe pumping out more dark Wizards, Witches, and Lords than they could keep up with—but Savage was under the strictest belief that Dumbledore's quest to sway the Ministry and the Minister himself towards his use had fueled the transition.

Of course, despite his opinion on the corruption of the Headmaster and the Ministry, he had gone on to be an Auror to the immense relief of his father. He had to admit, it was a wonderful feeling to be worthy in the eyes of his father again. It had been a hard sell after he'd been sorted into Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor, but he was among the best at what he did for the DMLE and his father was not nearly blind enough to play ignorant to the fact. When the time had come that an old friend and personal mentor of his had requested that he join the Order of the Phoenix, the invitation had only served to further his father's misbegotten pride.

Savage shook his head, wondering upon the convictions of his foolish attempts to earn his father's respect. If he hadn't been so desperate for approval perhaps he wouldn't be here, among the many Witches and Wizards left powerless as they searched in vain for their lost boy savior. It was a fruitless expedition and the charade had gone on for far too long. Once, maybe, he could have convinced himself that the Order was giving him purpose to his life. He had fought along side the other members of the Order with dignity; fighting the good fight. Now? Now, Savage assumed that it was by obligation that they gathered twice a month to pay homage to the follies of an old man on a terrible guilt trip. His father, Savage mused, was more trouble than he was ever worth; ten years the man had been dead and he was still putting his son in the worst of positions.

It was with great effort that Savage turned his attention from the monologue inside his head that had begun to play like a broken record during the monotony of the Order meetings to the proceedings around him. Dumbledore had taken his spot at the head of the table and with both his hands raised called silently for their attention.

"Thank you all for joining me here today," he said in a low rumbling voice that seemed to put those around him at ease. "My friends, it is with a pleasure long overdue that I suspend the search for Harry Potter."

Savage knew the man to be capable of subtlety, but he thought perhaps it had failed the Headmaster in that brief moment. The reactions of the crowd varied from disbelief to hope to outrage. As the many Witches and Wizards began to loudly voice their opinions on the matter, Dumbledore sank into his chair as though this was his method of starting the meeting. Savage settled to stare at the man and waited patiently for the aging Wizard to give in to the questions being lodged against his judgment and sanity.

"Let him speak," Minerva ordered coldly.

Her voice cut cleanly across the crowd as it often had through many a quibbling group of Hogwarts students in her time as a Professor. In the others defense, most had the decency to look ashamed of themselves.

Dumbledore nodded to Minerva before continuing the announcement he had apparently previously believed was better left unfinished.

"Through various connections within the Ministry and the Unspeakable department, we have been able to locate Harry Potter. We'll be devising a team to retrieve him tonight and the mission will take place tomorrow evening. Severus, Minerva, Kingsley, Alastor, and Aurors Savage and Proudfoot, I would like you to stay behind after the meeting. When we go to retrieve him we will also be accompanied by a handful of Ministry Officials, as per Minister Fudge's orders."

"He's alive?" Molly Weasley supplied for the stunned group as they dissolved into complete and utter silence.

"Yes, Molly." Dumbledore smiled kindly at the shaken woman. "By the Gods he is most certainly alive."

The Order meeting did not last long after the Headmaster's announcement. Many of the Order were simply relieved to go home and sink into their beds worry-free. Savage, by the cruel hands of fate, did not have that luxury.

They spent the night devising a plan, going over what they knew about the location, and preparing contingency plans should something go wrong.

For one thing—if Savage had it in him to find a silver lining amidst the chaos—he thought that perhaps once they had the boy in their hands, safe and sound under the dubious protection of the people that had lost him to begin with, he might be relieved of the ridiculous moral obligation that had kept him coming back week after week to suffer under the expectations of his supposed higher ups. That night Savage went home and kissed his wife and daughter and sank into a blissful, dreamless sleep, unaware of the horrors he would face the coming day.

Somewhere, Merlin only knew where, in a forest in Scotland, Auror Savage stood with his wand trained at the invisible barrier surrounding the dilapidated manor they had come upon. Sweat slipped in beads down his face and pooled in the corners of his eyes. Having spent the last hour switching his wand between hands he now had to utilize both to keep the damn thing steady. He was quickly growing tired of this game and threw another powerful lurch of magic through the stick of elm gripped tightly in his hands. The wards before him did not budge, but they rippled and the curse-breaker they had brought to assist them gave a mighty huff as he too concentrated his efforts at the weakness in the field.

"How much longer?" Proudfoot called.

He, as always, stood to Savage's left. His partner's body shook with the effort it took to keep himself upright. There were at least fifteen additional Aurors accompanying them and even with the extra manpower they were left to struggle through the night. The wards were formidible, but not impossible to break. Dumbledore had made a point of making that clear. He stood on the path leading up to the doors of the manor, just far enough away from the boundary of the wards to allow his wand and arm to extend to full length as he channeled his power into break the protections.

Regardless of how many were there, no one cared to answer Proudfoot's question, which Savage imagined his friend was ever so slightly grateful for. It was irrelevant how long it took to break through the wards. They would get through when they got through and worrying about the time would only fuel their exhaustion.

Honestly, it seemed like an eternity had passed. His legs were shaking, his back aching, his arms slowly but surely giving way to the impeccable force of gravity. When inevitably the cracks that had begun to appear in the fortress' wards began to expand and then shatter he felt as though he might keel over dead right then and there.

Time passed too quickly for him to keep track after that. Around him, several muffled cracks of disapparation brought him to his senses. He stepped passed his collapsed partner and sprinted towards the back of the house, cutting off any escape routes. The Death Eaters that had been guarding the home and attempting to hinder their progress by firing what spells they could through the wards without threatening the integrity of them had vanished as soon as the wards had fallen. They were no longer of any concern.

As he found the back door he crept slowly inside, wand raised with adrenaline fueled willpower and nothing more. He whispered a 'Point Me' spell and laid his wand flat on an open palm. It twisted, leading him through an arch that had once been a doorway. The door was lying within the next room, a small lounge that looked to have seen even less attention than the exterior of the house. He continued through the manor, but the layout was less than self-explanatory. Despite wanting to clear the entire first floor, the layout of the house took him up to the second floor and then to the third before he could return to the first on the otherside of an obstructing wall that had stood in his way. He managed to reach the room where his fellow Aurors had disapparated to just as they collectively stormed into the adjoining lounge.

Without a moment's hesitation, he followed them in, except having heard the commotion and given his position on the other side of the room, he turned left and entered through another doorway on the far side of the wall. He came out behind the Death Eaters caught in the middle of the room. There was no time to think. He saw Harry, an unconscious bundle in the arms of one of the Death Eaters. They weren't without their masks, but Savage immediately recognized the wand pressed to the child's back with the one hand left to support him: Antonin Dolohov. Most importantly, however, Savage saw the portkey that would take Harry away from them. He saw it and in a brief moment of naivety he went against every rule his mentor and father and training had instilled upon him, lunged forward, and grabbed onto the coin and Dolohov's hand for all that he was worth. In the next moment they were spiraling away from the battle.

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**A/N**: Chapter 2! I like it. Next chapter coming soon, if all goes well. Thank you, as always, for the wonderful support.


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